


A Time to Love

by Melanie_Athene



Series: To Err Is Human [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, Humor, M/M, Post Season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melanie_Athene/pseuds/Melanie_Athene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Time to Love

The cruel November rain continued to beat down upon them, and still Castiel and Dean stood locked in a tight embrace. Over and over, Castiel's lips claimed Dean's, stealing the breath from his very lungs, setting his entire being aflame, erasing any thoughts of discomfort from his mind. Over and over, eager hands stroked and caressed and teased, until Dean shivered not from the cold, but from pure sensory overload. And still the angel kissed him. And still the human craved more, encouraging each touch, each taste, with a counterattack of frenzied kisses that made the angel kiss him even more passionately.

Fortunately, Castiel remembered the human's need for air before Dean practically kissed his way into asphyxiation. One hand petting Dean's face, the other tenderly cradling the nape of his neck, he drew their foreheads together as Dean finally remembered how to breathe.

“Ani ohev et otha,” Castiel murmured. “Te amo. S'agapo. Techi 'hila. Je t'aime. Я тебя люблю. Ich liebe dich.”

“Cas?”

“I love you,” Castiel replied, smiling broadly. “I _love_ you! It is pleasing on the tongue, whatever the language. I want to shout it to the heavens, write it in the sky.” He gestured and a bolt of lightning curved to his will, quickly forming the words 'I love you' in letters miles high and twice as wide, the sizzling font slowly drifting to earth in a cascade of sparks that brought tears to Dean's dazzled eyes.

“I love you, too,” Dean said. “I can't turn the sky into a billboard, but it's carved deep in my heart, inscribed on my very soul. I hope you know that, Cas.”

“I do now,” Castiel whispered hoarsely, easily coaxing Dean's lips back to his own.

“Bed...” Dean murmured, an eon of kisses later. “Bed, Cas. Let's go to bed.”

“Yes,” Castiel said softly. “Yes, Dean. It is time we consummated our bond.”

“Fuck. Say it, Cas. It's time we fucked.”

“It is time... we fucked.”

Two fingers brushed against the human's temple and the lovers vanished, leaving only rain to fill the space where they had been standing.

 

~*~

 

“I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore,” Dean joked, as the world stopped spinning and his brain belatedly caught up with his body.

“We never were in Kansas, we were in South Dakota,” Castiel said, confusion crinkling his brow. “Don't you remember, Dean? And now we are in Motu Tetaraire. The Rangiroa Atoll,” he elaborated when Dean continued to stare at him blankly. “Tahiti, Dean. We are on a private island in Tahiti. I have ensured there are no other humans here.”

“Cas...” Dean swept his gaze around a tasteful and luxurious room, his breath catching as he caught a moonlit glimpse of palm trees and bone-white sand through the thin veil of a fluttering curtain. “You booked us a romantic getaway in Tahiti?”

“If it is not to your liking...” Castiel said uncertainly. He held up his fingers, offering to transport them wherever Dean wished.

Dean swatted his hand aside. “Don't you dare,” he whispered. “Don't you dare offer me paradise and then snatch it away before I get to sample all it offers.”

“You are pleased?” Castiel questioned anxiously. “This location meets with your approval? I thought...” A light flush travelled up his neck. “I thought we might require privacy. The walls of Bobby's house are very thin, and I do not know if I can be silent... when we... when we f– ”

“When we make love,” Dean corrected firmly, silencing the angel by placing a gentle hand across his mouth. “I'm sorry. I was wrong to cheapen what we have going on here with such a vulgar expression. This is... beyond special. Perfect. And I certainly hope you can't keep quiet. I want to hear every word you have to say. I want to savour every breath, every sigh, every gasp, every moan. I want to make you scream...”

“That might not be wise,” Castiel noted wryly, slipping his fingers in between Dean's and lacing them tightly together. “What if I inadvertently cry out in my true voice?”

“Huh. Point taken,” Dean said. “Okay then, _you_ make _me_ scream. That will do just as well.”

“I do not know if I am capable of achieving that goal.”

“Don't sweat it, Cas. Half the fun is trying to get there.”

“And the other half?”

“You'll see,” Dean promised, grinning wickedly.

 

~*~

 

Castiel's trench coat hit the floor with a sodden _thump_ as Dean pushed it from his shoulders. And, then, the hunter fumbled with the buttons of Castiel's shirt, growling a little deep down in his throat as his desire to bare the angel to his touch was thwarted by stubborn plastic, wet cloth and fingers still too numb from the cold rain to properly function.

Castiel gently moved Dean's hands aside and removed the offending garment himself by the simple expedient of ripping it from his body in one fluid motion, the noise of buttons pinging off the floor and furniture loud in the solemn silence that had fallen upon the room. Dean shrugged free of his jacket and impatiently pulled his T-shirt over his head. The remainder of their clothing melted away – aided, Dean noted approvingly, by an equally impatient wave of Castiel's hand.

Green eyes met blue, and for a moment neither man moved, lost deep in a communion that encompassed far more than mere words could ever say. A blissful amalgam of: I want you... I love you... you are mine...

They sank into the bed as if it were a cloud, billows of white rising up to halt and cushion their fall. Castiel's head tossed restlessly on the pillow, his dark hair sticking out in flyaway spikes that tickled against Dean's face as he leaned down to kiss his angel. Within minutes, Castiel's lips were red and swollen from kisses both stolen and freely given, and a staccato of helpless _oh oh oh_ s escaped him each time their mouths parted long enough for Dean to gulp down a much needed breath of air.

Dean had expected a contest of wills, each vying to outdo the other and seize command of the situation. After all, he was very much an alpha male and most of his encounters in the past had been marked by macho posturing and territorial pissing around. But, much to his surprise, what he felt now was a need to surrender. A need to give rather than take.

“Cas,” he murmured, rolling to one side and gripping the angel so that he rolled too, the end result being that Castiel came to rest splayed out on top of the hunter. Dean's legs fell apart, nestling their bodies closer together, and he gave a little wriggle against the hard column he felt pressed against his thigh. “Cas,” he repeated, rocking his hips up suggestively. “Please? I want you.”

“You have me,” Castiel moaned, pressing down as Dean pressed up. “You have me. I am yours, Dean. Only yours.”

A little huff of amusement tinged with frustration puffed against Castiel's cheek.

“I mean I _want_ you,” Dean said. “I want you to come inside of me. I want you to – ”

“Oh!” Castiel breathed. “ _Oh_...”

“Yeah...” Dean sighed contentedly as Castiel propped himself up on his elbows and gave an experimental thrust of his hips. “Yeah, like that... but more...”

“Dean...” Castiel groaned and leaned down until his forehead touched against Dean's, his hand slotting into place upon his mark. “If we do this – ”

“If?” Dean said heatedly.

Castiel drew back until he could look deep into the human's eyes. “ _If_ we do this,” he repeated soberly. “If we... celebrate our union.... while I am fully an angel, I need you to understand that it is forever. The bond we forge will be eternal. Unbreakable.”

“Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what you've always wanted?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied. “Yes. You know it is. But, is it what _you_ want? I need you to be sure... very sure...”

“I'm sure, Cas,” Dean whispered. “I've never been more fucking certain about anything in my entire life. I love you. An eternity of loving you won't be nearly long enough for me.”

“Dean...” Castiel moaned, and quickly closed his eyes to contain the sudden light that flared up in a bright corona, blue encircling blue with an all consuming flame.

Dean waited as patiently as he could, now and then pressing light kisses to the angel's closed eyelids, feeling an unnatural heat tingle against his lips and loving it. Loving Castiel. Touching Castiel with hands that trembled with lust, with reverence. Lost to emotions too profound to sully with a name.

Slowly, as Castiel regained a modicum of self control, he began to respond to the gentle kisses, the soothing touches, blindly nudging Dean's mouth back into alignment with his own, the kiss deepening as both men fell into a perfect rhythm of lips and tongues and straying hands.

The unbearable brilliance had vanished by the time Castiel's eyes finally re-opened, but hunger burned in its place. “Now, Dean,” the words rasped from his throat. “Now.”

“Yes,” Dean sighed, and offered his body to the angel as he had already offered his heart and soul: utterly and completely, nothing held back, nothing hidden.

There was pressure and there was pain. There was the brush of fingers – or maybe feathers – and the slick feeling of lubrication – or maybe angelic mojo – easing the way. And then there was only Cas, the warm, solid length of him endlessly stroking in and gliding out, filling Dean with a pleasure so intense that he could not help but cry out, overcome by astonishment and wonder.

Apparently, the feeling was mutual.

Castiel's eyes widened as he thrust harder, deeper, faster... his hips stuttering as he approached the limits of his endurance. “Dean,” he moaned. “DeanDeanDean...”

Instinctively, Dean's right hand rose to grasp Castiel's left shoulder, his fingers sinking into the angel's unresisting flesh, the skin beneath his touch searingly hot. A clear impression of his handprint rose up to meet his palm, each individual finger, in a brand to match the one he bore on his own arm. A physical manifestation of their bond. His answering claim. His mark upon his angel, labelling him his, his, his...

Dean's mouth shaped the angel's name as the breath escaped his lungs in a sudden whoosh of air. Slender fingers tightened possessively on Dean's arm as Castiel's head tilted back towards the ceiling and he abruptly screamed, “Close your eyes, Dean! Close your eyes!”

A hot answering spume bathed Castiel's stomach and chest as the angel emptied himself within his lover... his mate...

“Dean,” he whispered, kissing parted lips, swallowing panting breaths, and sinking down upon the human's body as if his will alone could meld them together as one for all time.

Dean's arms encircled him, drawing him closer to his wildly beating heart.

“Mine,” Castiel murmured contentedly.

“Yours,” came Dean's soft reply. “As you are mine.”

“Yours in every way you can imagine.”

It was both a promise and a challenge. Dean's breath caught in his throat as he stared into electric blue eyes, and his pulse quickened as a wealth of possibilities raced though his mind.

Castiel's mouth curved in a smile as he deposited a chaste kiss upon the human's brow. “How vivid is your imagination, Dean?” he teased.

And, just like that, Dean was ready for round two.

 

~*~

 

Top or bottom, it turned out Castiel was indeed a screamer. They tried it both ways round, from many different angles and in various, highly imaginative positions that were far better suited to pretzels than those created in God's image. Castiel screamed every time. So did Dean – or at least he assumed he screamed. His throat felt raw, his mouth was open, his breath panting hot and heavy against Castiel's face, but the unholy racket Castiel made left no room for Dean's cries to be heard and threatened to make the human's eardrums bleed.

In despair, Castiel conjured up his blue tie and Dean firmly knotted it in place as a very effective gag. Staring down at the saliva soaked cloth as he plunged deep within the angel's body was one of the greatest turn ons of Dean's life. This time, they were left in no doubt as to whether or not Dean screamed when he came. Unfortunately, he once again missed the moment Castiel climaxed. When blue light began to seep from the angel's eyes as he writhed and surged to meet his lover's final thrusts, Castiel's hand quickly rose to clamp itself across Dean's eyes.

“Unh...” Dean moaned, collapsing heavily onto Castiel.

Warm arms wrapped around him, drawing him closer, offering to be his strength until his own returned.

For long minutes, Dean lay pillowed on his angel's chest, heartbeat gradually slowing to a less frantic tempo, drifting on a wave of sleepy contentment.

A light patter of kisses on the top of his head finally stirred him back to consciousness.

“Sorry,” he murmured, sliding sideways until his weight rested on the king-sized bed, rather than on his lover. A gentle hand touched Castiel's lips, stroked across his cheek, and slid up to ruffle through already thoroughly tousled hair. “I didn't mean to leave you hanging like that. Are you okay?”

“I am perfectly content, thank you, Dean.”

“Still, I could have been a gentleman and removed the gag instead of you having to mojo it away.” Dean drew Castiel's face to his, their lips meeting in a slow and tender kiss. As it ended, the human nestled his face against the angel's neck, trying to smother a yawn and failing miserably.

“Sleep, Dean,” Castiel ordered, his amused voice a warm rumble in Dean's ear.

“Wha'bout you?” Dean mumbled, already more than halfway lost to slumber.

“I will be here when you awaken,” the angel promised.

“Meant... you sleep?” Dean muttered, and drifted off between one breath and the next.

“I have no need of sleep,” Castiel softly answered. “No need of food or drink. No need of anything but you, Dean.”

A soft snore was his only reply.

 

~*~

 

By 6:55 am Castiel's meticulous tally of Dean's slow breaths over the past four hours had reached the grand total of two thousand eight hundred eighty-five, slightly in excess of a twelve per sec norm – five dream-induced, agitated breaths at 4:03 am swiftly calmed by the angel resting a warm hand over the human's heart. Dean had trustingly nestled closer and slipped back into a dreamless sleep, leaving Castiel to continue his solitary vigil.

The sun was well in the sky now, sunrise long since left behind. A light breeze blew in the open window, scented with a hundred fragrant flowers, the tang of sea salt, and sun-warmed sand. The first day of their new life together beckoned, but Dean slept blissfully on and Castiel found himself reluctant to disturb the human's much needed repose. He would be patient. He would contemplate the wonder that was this moment. He would think of the many joys to come... all the love that they would share...

Quite suddenly, it occurred to the angel that Dean had been missing from Bobby's for almost seven hours. His absence would surely have been remarked upon by now, given the three hour difference in time zones. Sam and Bobby would be gravely concerned.

 _Bat-shit-crazy worried,_ Dean's voice rang clearly in his mind.

Castiel gave the matter careful consideration, then quietly mojoed himself free of the bed and Dean's octopus-like embrace. A frown creased the angel's forehead as he stood looking down at the peacefully sleeping man. He wasn't answering Heaven's summons, nor would he be gone long, so waking Dean to 'kiss him stupid' and say goodbye did not seem particularly appropriate or necessary. Castiel bent and brushed a feather-light kiss on Dean's cheek instead, well pleased with this compromise. And then he willed a pad of paper and a pen into existence and neatly wrote:

      _Returning to Bobby's to advise them of our whereabouts._  
      _Back soon. Will bring breakfast._  
            _Cas_

Castiel read his message through twice before smiling and adding a bold _'I love you, Dean'_ in the empty space below his name.

After propping the pad of paper against a pillow and setting wards to protect the room in his absence, the angel vanished, the flutter of his wings masked by a seagull's plaintive cry.

 

~*~

 

Sam knew something was amiss the moment he stepped from his room out to the hall and discovered Dean's bedroom door was open. The bedcovers were rumpled, but still drawn up over the pillows in as neat an attempt as Dean ever undertook to make his bed. Dean's cell phone was laying on the nightstand, next to a bottle of Jim Beam that was not by any optimistic reckoning half full. In fact, Sam would be surprised if there was so much as half a shot left. The reek of alcohol was heavy on the air, the remains from a dropped glass spread out in a sticky puddle on the floor.

Dean would never have left this damning evidence for his brother to discover. He would have hidden away the emptied bottle as carefully as he always tried to hide how badly he was hurting.

Something unexpected had drawn him from the room. Something unexpected had prevented his return.

Sam clattered down the stairs and entered the kitchen.

Bobby was already seated at the table, a plate of toast and cup of coffee clear evidence that the old man wasn't going to let a little thing like being crippled slow him down.

“Where's Dean?” Sam blurted, foregoing any exchange of pleasantries.

“Upstairs?” Bobby replied, easily divining from the expression on Sam's face that this was not the case. A quick glance at the coat hook confirmed his suspicions. “His jacket's gone,” he said.

Sam crossed the room and peered out the door. The Impala was still parked where they had left it last night in their mad dash to get in out of the storm. A single trail of footsteps wended their way from the porch to the centre of the yard, the indentations partially filled with rainwater. The final set of Dean's tracks went toe to toe with other prints that appeared from nowhere and led nowhere in turn.

“Cas's coat is missing too,” Bobby observed. “Think that idjit angel finally came back for Dean?”

“Seems that way,” Sam said. “I'd feel better if I knew for sure... but what I'm seeing looks like a rendezvous.” He grinned, noting how deep the depression was where the two prints met.

“Told him his freaking angel would come back,” Bobby muttered, spreading jam on his toast and helping himself to a hearty bite.

Sam nodded, and busied himself with his own breakfast preparations.

They were quietly engrossed in research three hours later when the clock chimed 10:00 am and a flutter of wings announced the arrival of company.

“Hi, Cas,” Sam said, glancing up from his computer screen. “How's Dean doing?”

“He is well, I left him sleeping – You were not alarmed that he was missing? But I thought – ”

“Hunters read signs, Cas,” Sam offered kindly, standing and stretching cramped muscles. “That's what we do. And Dean blazed a pretty clear trail... one that led directly to you.”

“Dean knows better than to wander around outside at night unless he's damned sure where he's going and what – or who – is waiting for him there.” Bobby added.

“I am relieved we did not worry you,” Castiel said stiffly. “My apologies for intruding.”

“Wait, Cas!” Sam cried, anticipating Castiel's intent to leave and swiftly crossing the room until he stood before the angel. The hesitation was scarcely noticeable before he drew Castiel into an awkward hug.

“Sam?” Castiel's hands dangled limply at his sides.

“Welcome to the family,” Sam said, hugging him a little bit tighter, pleased and relieved when Castiel's arms rose to hug him back.

“Sam?” Castiel repeated, his blue eyes comically wide as Sam set him free and stepped away.

“You missed a spot,” Sam teased, the almost echo of Dean's words bringing a warm smile to the hunter's face. “Here...” He lightly touched a finger to Castiel's neck. “That's one hell of a hickey. I've always said Dean has a big mouth.”

“I won't ask how the honeymoon's going,” Bobby drawled, wheeling himself out from behind the desk. “I'm curious where you buggered off to, though. Hope you two eloped somewhere nice.”

“Tahiti,” Castiel murmured absentmindedly, clearly distracted and distressed by the sight of Bobby in a wheelchair. “You are injured. Let me – ”

“First things first,” Bobby growled, intercepting Castiel's hand, and gripping it tight, “You ever hurt that boy, and I promise I'll hurt you. We clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Castiel said humbly.

Bobby nodded and released the angel's hand. “You go ahead then, son. I'd be mighty grateful for a little of that healing mojo of yours.”

 

~*~

 

Dean woke to the sound of waves lapping at the shore and the heavenly scent of coffee and waffles.

“From Belgium, I presume?” he queried, peering at a platter of golden, crisp cakes dusted with confectioner's sugar.

“Of course,” Castiel confirmed, setting an artfully arranged tray on a little side table. “Maple syrup from Canada, coffee from Brazil, fresh strawberries from Baguio...”

“You've been a busy little angel.”

“I have indeed.” Castiel smiled and leaned over to accept Dean's kiss.

“Breakfast will get cold,” he murmured as the kiss deepened and Dean tugged him down to lie beside him on the bed.

“We'll reheat it later,” Dean said, nibbling his way down the angel's neck, nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt and pushing the cloth aside.

If Castiel had any further arguments to offer, he kept them to himself.

 

~*~

 

It was three days before they ventured from their cozy love nest and set foot outside. The white sand was just as soft and warm beneath Dean's bare feet as he had imagined it would be. A gentle breeze caressed his face, and his nose twitched, trying to catalogue the tantalizing, unfamiliar scents it carried. As for the sea... A solemn surf lapped relentlessly at the shore, the faintest trace of white caps bobbing now and then on water such a pure shade of blue that it almost hurt the eyes. A blue that seemed so achingly familiar it made his heart beat faster, made his breath catch in his throat...

Dean's glance slid from the horizon to his companion, tracing the full length of his body as the naked angel reclined on the blanket they had spread: torso propped up on both elbows, knees bent, feet stretched out past the blanket's edge, toes curled in the sparkling sand. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back to let the sun caress his face.

 _Paradise,_ Dean thought contentedly. _Our own little Garden of Eden. Just Cas and me. Adam and... Adam._ He snorted, the huff of amusement causing Castiel to turn his head and open his eyes.

And there it was, the answer to the not so mysterious mystery: a calm, clear blue ocean of unending love.

“Dean?” Castiel said, tilting his head to one side.

“Thank you,” Dean whispered, scooting across the narrow space that separated them until their hips touched. He gently cupped the angel's face, a thumb stroking his stubbled jaw. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Dean...”

“I don't just mean from Hell,” Dean murmured, lips following his other hand as it wandered down the angel's body. “I mean thank you for saving me every day. For giving me a reason to live... a reason to believe.”

“Dean!” Castiel cried, eyes snapping shut and his head helplessly falling back towards the blanket as Dean's warm mouth enveloped him...

 

~*~

 

Dean used the resort phone to call home on the tenth day of his tropical vacation. Castiel had flapped off in search of the perfect dinner, his attempts to expose Dean to fine cuisine touchingly obvious, his intent to improve the human's diet clear. Dean used Castiel's absence to his advantage, hoping that the angel would not return until he finished his conversation with Sam – or at least the portion of the conversation that he wished to remain hidden from his lover. To that end, he firmly squashed Sam's excited greeting and whispered his instructions into the receiver as quickly as he could to be sure they would not coincide with Castiel's return.

That accomplished, he settled back in a comfy armchair and quietly listened as Sam's excited questions flooded from the phone, inserting answers he was not sure his brother really took the time to hear.

_Yes, he was happy._

_Yes, he missed Sam too._

_Yes, Cas was treating him well – spoiling him rotten, more like._

_No, he didn't know when they'd be back. Soon. Probably. Maybe._

Castiel arrived in a flutter of invisible wings seven minutes into the conversation.

 _Sam,_ Dean mouthed in response to the angel's raised eyebrow.

“No,” he told his brother. “And yes, I will. Give my regards to Bobby. Love ya, Sam.”

Dean's eyes were wet when he looked up from carefully returning the phone to its cradle.

“Are you homesick, Dean?” Castiel murmured, gently kissing the tears away before they could fall.

“No,” Dean said. “Yes. I don't know. Sam's thinking of going on a hunt... alone...”

“We can be there in seconds, if you wish.”

“No... I'm not quite ready to go back... Soon, though, Cas. A few more days.” Dean smiled. “I need to find a camera. Samantha wants to make us a honeymoon photo album.”

“I don't suppose clothing is optional?” Castiel said, shrugging out of his trench coat and removing his tie. Looping the narrow strip of blue cloth around Dean's neck, he tugged until the hunter stepped into the circle of his arms.

“It could be,” Dean teased. “If I make us a private album and you hide it in another dimension.”

 

~*~

 

It was as they were preparing to leave their island paradise that Dean asked the question Castiel had hoped he would never think to ask.

“Are you happy, Cas?” Dean said, looking up from sorting through the tiny pile of treasures they had accumulated during their stay: a vial of white sand, several unusual seashells, a piece of broken glass polished by the restless surf into an almost perfectly shaped blue heart... He freed the memory card from a camera he had borrowed and slipped it in his pocket for safekeeping. The camera he would return to the shop.

 _Sonofabitch,_ Dean thought bemusedly, _Cas's goody two-shoes ways are rubbing off on me._

The smile he turned on Castiel was warm and open, love shimmering in his eyes and joy radiating from his body in palpable waves.

Castiel stared Dean straight in the eye and for the first – and, he hoped, the last – time broke his solemn vow to his lover to always answer his questions honestly. “Yes,” he said.

 

~*~

 

It wasn't quite a lie. It wasn't quite the truth, either. Castiel wasn't happy... but neither was he unhappy. That was the problem. He wasn't really anything at all. He just... was.

It was a most unsettling conundrum, and a startlingly human reaction for an angel to have: he had been given everything he'd ever wanted... and he wanted more? Unthinkable. And yet...

 _I want to fall,_ his heart cried. _Dear Father above, how I want to fall..._

It became an obsession.

Each time Dean lay sleeping beside him, Castiel remembered how it had felt to nestle close beside him when he was fully human, how the rhythm of their bodies became perfectly synchronized as they both drifted into slumber. He longed to dream of green eyes and wake to find them smiling back at him. He wanted to taste a new food for the first time... be kissed golden by the sun... shiver as he slipped between cool bed sheets... be warmed by Dean's welcoming arms...

Dean remained blissfully oblivious to Castiel's secret longings.

The angel would have it no other way. Dean Winchester had known very little happiness in his life. That Castiel, Angel of the Lord, made him happy was a miracle Castiel did not see fit to question.

 _It is enough that he is happy,_ he told himself.

That was the second lie.


End file.
